EPILOGUE | HEATHER
EPILOGUE
HEATHER
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Six months later...
I lean back in an old lawn chair on my parents’ patio, sip my tea, and watch my father and Justin, both bundled up against the cold, walk a circular path in the back garden. They’re no doubt embroiled in an animated conversation on some obscure issue, the kind of conversation they both relish.
Something moves in my chest as my gaze lingers on Justin. I’m dizzy with love for this man. I’m even more dizzy over the fact that he loves me. Completely and utterly. Because that’s what he tells me every day.
I have to blink hard sometimes to remind myself this is not someone else’s dream I’ve mistakenly slipped into.
My greatest pleasure has come from watching Justin fit so easily into my family. Admittedly, the first month was rough. The moment Justin approached my father about seriously dating me, my dad grilled him on his career plans, his values, and his intentions regarding me.
Next came a series of highly competitive games nights.
I know my dad was using these sessions to test Justin’s critical thinking and competitive streak.
“I’m not having my daughter marry a man with no drive,” I overheard him mutter to my mom.
“I also want to see how he reacts when he loses. Which he will.”
After grudgingly approving Justin’s attitude and conduct in the games nights (with Mom and I agreeing it was Dad who really needed to work on losing more graciously), my all-thumbs father then hauled out a broken toaster that had been languishing for years in the garage and presented it to a dubious Justin to fix.
After Justin almost set the house on fire trying to repair it, my father declared, “Oh, well, you can’t have everything.” I have a sneaking suspicion he was secretly pleased Justin matched his level of ineptness in the DIY department.
Justin looks up from his conversation with my dad and smiles at me.
A smile that sends a jolt of pleasure up my spine and unfurls a soft warmth inside my chest. I can barely remember the angry, hostile man I first met, a man who knew only to rage at the world, who didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, and couldn’t be bothered to look too far into the future.
Returning his smile, I swallow past the thickness in my throat and blow a kiss to the man who will be my husband in a year. Although, if he has his way, we’ll be married a lot sooner than that. His reasoning? He wants me to make him an honest man.
My mind replays the night when I left Justin outside SolomiChem, the night I came apart thinking it would be the last time I would ever see him.
To my surprise, he showed up at my house two hours later, begging to speak with me.
I met him outside, away from the curious eyes and ears of my family.
The evening air was crisp and fresh from the storm that had blown over.
Justin stood tall and straight in the amber slant of the streetlight, a long way from the bowed figure in my rearview mirror earlier.
“What do you want, Justin?” I asked resignedly, my throat still raw from crying.
“You,” he answered, his eyes burning into mine. “Only you.”
It took me a second to find my voice. “I told you I don’t do casual. And to be honest, I’m really not in the mood—”
He cut me off. “I’m not taking about a casual hookup. Tonight has made me realize that the only person I want sharing my life is standing right in front of me. I want you, Heather Walker. All of you. Mind, body, and heart.”
My head jerked back in shock. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” I stammered.
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
“You’re caught up in the emotions of the night.”
“No, sweetheart,” he corrected tenderly, the endearment pulling on my heart. “My eyes have been opened because of the emotions of this night.”
I couldn’t stop shaking my head. “You’ll regret this in the morning.”
“The only thing I’ll regret is not telling you how I feel,” he said steadily. “I’m falling in love with you.” A note of wonder underscored his words, as though he was still coming to grips with it himself. “I never thought I’d say that to anyone, but I’m saying it to you.”
I was still frozen with shock on the sidewalk outside my house, trying to absorb his emotional declaration, my thoughts all over the place.
“Okay, you’re killing me here,” Justin said finally. For the first time, I caught a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “I’m dying to take you in my arms and kiss the heck out of you, but it would help if I knew you felt the same way about me.”
Did I feel the same way about him? Of course I did. Somehow, this man had slotted himself right into my heart. Like he always belonged there. Like my heart couldn’t imagine anyone else taking up residence in its chambers.
“Kiss me,” I managed to say at last, “and I’ll show you exactly how I feel about you.”
He wasted no time sweeping me into his arms and crushing his lips to mine. I kissed him. Deeply. Passionately. Letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that I’d fallen just as hard as he had.
When we finally came up for air, I murmured against his lips, “I’m crazy about you too.”
Such a dark, dark day, and then this happened. One bright, beautiful spark of light.
Justin rested his forehead against mine. “Will you come with me? Please. I want to show you something.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
After a quick word to my parents, I climbed onto his bike and he drove me to a house I later found out was his childhood home. A tall man named Joel opened the door, his kind eyes lighting up at the sight of me.
“You must be Heather.”
“I am.”
“A pleasure to meet you at last,” he said with a smile. “I look forward to getting to know you better.”
“Same here,” I responded automatically, still confused as to why Justin had brought me here.
“How is he?” Justin asked Joel.
“Pretty much the same.”
I frowned. Who were they talking about?
Justin reached for my hand and laced his fingers in mine. He lifted up our joined hands and pressed the ghost of a kiss to my skin. “Just remember,” he said in a low voice, “when we’re both teetering on the brink of a bottomless pit we can help each other from falling into the abyss.”
Before I could question what he meant by those enigmatic words, he gave my hand a light tug and we followed Joel to a softly lit bedroom.
There, lying on a cushioned dog bed, was Turbo.
A whirlwind of emotions—shock, disbelief, relief, happiness—slammed into me. I dropped to my knees beside the beagle who looked so tiny in his bed and touched him gently. He opened his beautiful brown eyes and looked at me.
“How?” I choked out, tears pouring down my cheeks. “How did you know who Turbo was?”
Justin knelt next to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Joel leave the room and close the door quietly behind him.
“You mentioned Turbo’s number was six-seven-five,” Justin said.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for taking him out of there.”
He nodded, but in his eyes I glimpsed his evident pain that he couldn’t rescue all the beagles, his guilt that he had to leave them behind to die. Pain and guilt he wanted to spare me from experiencing.
Yes, I’d deliberately left my security keycard behind, but the hope that Justin would do something with it was so faint I forgot about the keycard as soon as I arrived home.
I placed my palm against his tightly clenched jaw, tugging him away from the blackness of the abyss.
We were both a mess of emotions as we sat with Turbo.
Joel had given him strong pain medication so he was in and out of sleep while we talked to him and stroked him gently.
At one point, Justin carried him on his dog bed outside and Turbo revived a little in the cool night air, his first time breathing fresh air, no doubt picking up smells he’d never smelled before.
We stayed with him the whole night. Not once was he alone. We showered him with more love in those hours than he’d ever experienced in his short life. And we were still talking to him and stroking him when he died in our arms just before dawn.
I take another sip of my tea, feeling the stinging pang of sadness I always feel when I think of Turbo. My dad wanders into the house and Justin strolls in my direction with that slow, lazy smile he reserves especially for me.
After weeks of late-night discussions with my family around his future, Justin enrolled at university to study law. It was his decision to fight for animals on a different front, employing his considerable arguing skills to battle for justice in the courtroom.
I’m close to finishing my studies and I can’t wait to finally begin work as a veterinary nurse.
I stare into the murky remains of my tea and lose myself in the memory of the past couple of months. I was the first person SolomiChem suspected when Turbo went missing, but surveillance footage revealed a hooded male figure carrying the beagle out of SolomiChem. Definitely not me.
The theft of Turbo, however, was soon forgotten after the airing of the bungled primate necropsy video, which generated an unprecedented public outcry. The authorities were inundated with thousands of emails and letters demanding the closure of the facility.
SolomiChem lawyered up, but the controversial footage sparked the anonymous leak of a batch of confidential documents revealing serious animal welfare violations. I can’t shake off the niggling suspicion that Glen was somehow behind the leak.
In the face of all the evidence, as well as escalating public protests, the authorities were finally forced to revoke SolomiChem’s license to experiment on animals. After surrendering hundreds of animals to welfare charities, SolomiChem announced they were shutting their doors.
Rumors are circulating, however, that SolomiChem are planning on changing their name and opening up operations in another country. The news upset me, but Justin’s response was a philosophical shrug. The war continues, he muttered, and other activists will fight it.
I never returned to SolomiChem. I sent in my resignation the same day the chemo beagles were killed. I also refused to look at any of the leaked documents, not wanting to read how they died. Some details I’m better off not knowing.
“Heather, it’s time.”
I look up to find Justin standing over me, his eyes soft with warmth and love.
“You okay?” he asks tenderly, his gaze roaming over every inch of my face.
“I’m always okay with you at my side.”
He pulls me to my feet, drawing me against him. I rest my cheek against his chest, hearing the steady, strong beat of his heart, marveling again that this man will soon be my husband.
“I am so addicted to you,” he whispers, tightening his arms around me, as though he wants to hold onto this moment. “You have destroyed me for anyone else.”
“I’m destroyed along with you then,” I murmur.
“You ready?” he asks.
I nod.
“Let’s go.”
We have an appointment at a local animal shelter to pick up a rescue beagle. We both agreed to name him Turbo.
I promised not to forget him and I intend to keep that promise.